Last week I was getting a lot done.
I was continuing work on, and trying to wrap up, the Great Studio Overhaul.
I was working on several mini tack projects.
I was also finally unpacking resins and thinking I wanted to start doing a bit of prep work on the raw copies. (Sort of a big deal, since prepping is typically my least favorite task. I like to jump on it when, for whatever reason, I actually want to do it.)
Then this happened.
We left for a camping trip over 4th of July weekend, but before we got there, Jeff and Max were involved in an accident. That's the best way I can put it. Afterwards, we both just knew Max was dying, but amazingly he came out of the whole thing with "only" a broken leg. Still a problem, given that he is 12 years old and a large dog (Newfoundland mix) who was already starting to have some trouble getting around...
We had rushed him to a local Japanese vet that was highly recommended by other people stationed here. He was left there for the night. It was a night we spent trying to decide: surgery or euthanasia. Jeff and I both called friends and family members that night and the next morning, needing to talk about what happened and what we should do. Jeff's dad told us we should do whatever we think Max would want. Jeff said that would be to spend as much time with Jeff as he can. They've been together since Max was a little puppy. My friend who is watching Bo back in the States had me in tears when she said this about Max, "I know he's old, but... He's not done yet. He proved that by trying to go with you when you left him at the vet."
I had told her about that. He did. After we saw the x-ray and said goodbye to him (for the night) he tried to scramble up off the exam table and come with us as we left the room, floppy back leg and all.
We decided: surgery.
It was a tense time for us, waiting to see if he made it through the first night and wondering if the vet was going to find anything else wrong. (Nothing!) Then waiting to hear if he made it through the surgery. He did. We finally brought him back home and he's been in good spirits, tail wags and smiles through everything.
He continues to amaze us.
As for Jeff and I, we are both okay, though possibly dealing with a bit of post traumatic-like symptoms - Jeff from being in it and me from seeing it happen. Jeff came out of the whole thing with a nasty limp over the first couple of days, but, typical man (?), wouldn't go to the hospital. I don't have much room to talk, I've been historically horrible and going to get myself checked out after bad stuff happens. Thankfully he's almost back to normal already. For me, I'm finding out that I might not be cut out to be a nurse. Jeff had to go back to work the morning after we brought Max home, post-surgery. I've spent the last couple of days watching Max like a hawk, trying to do everything I can possibly think of to keep him comfortable whenever he gets antsy or whines. I've also been living in an almost constant state of stress and worry. I know neither of those things do any good, but they've been my constant companions. As a result, my nerves are shot. This has certainly given me a new appreciation of what caregivers must go through. Jeff tells me I need to relax, Max is not going to keel over, he's already been through the worst and survived. He is a tough old man.
So... that's what's been going on here!